Mail-Order Mistletoe Brides. Jillian Hart

not good for him,” he said, heading toward the door at a run.

      All the way down the stairs and through the silent, echoing store, she tried to remember what Cole had written about his church life. Had he ever said he attended Sunday service? Funny, she realized as she caught sight of Eberta through the glass panes of the shop’s door, busily unlocking it. She couldn’t recall if he’d mentioned actually being a churchgoer himself. In his second letter to her, he’d mentioned how Amelia had commented on being the only girl in church without a mother, and Mercy had simply assumed he attended Sunday services.

      Now, she could see she’d been wrong. The door opened, an icy blast of raw, wintry air whooshed in, and George bolted onto the boardwalk, eyes focused on the horse.

      “Hi, Miss Eberta,” he said on his way by. “Is that your horse, or is it my new pa’s?”

      “It’s Cole’s,” she answered fondly, as if completely understanding the boy’s love of horses. “Good morning, Mercy. I trust you slept well.”

      “I was very comfortable.” That was the truth. She’d never slept in such a fine bed. “Thank you. I know it was you who went to the trouble.”

      “Oh, pshaw, it wasn’t much.” Pleased, Eberta relocked the door with a jangling of her keys. “Amelia wanted it nice and it’s hard to say no to that girl. If you’re going to be her ma, it’s a skill you’ll have to learn.”

      “I do have some practice saying no to my son,” she answered breezily, sharing a smile with the older lady. They headed down the steps together, sinking into snow midway up their calves.

      “I can see it would be hard to say no to that one, too.” Eberta nodded in approval. “Someone has to take a firm hand with that girl. Not to scare you off before the wedding.”

      “That would be impossible,” Mercy confessed, coming to a standstill in the deep snow, mesmerized by the sight of George gazing raptly at the majestic white horse, too afraid to approach the animal.

      “He’s the prettiest one I’ve ever seen,” he breathed, wide-eyed and awestruck. “Is he really gonna be our horse to drive?”

      “When you’re with your pa,” Eberta answered. “It’s his driving horse. He bought you a fine mare, gentle as can be, Mercy. So you can get around and take the children where they need to be going.”

      “My, he bought a horse?” Mercy swallowed. She couldn’t say why that gesture touched her. The comfortably furnished rooms, and the knowledge they would be just as comfortable in his home, were enough. “He didn’t need to go to that trouble. Horses are expensive.”

      “You’re marrying a man who can afford it.” Eberta climbed onto the front seat of the sleigh. “Heaven knows that man saves every penny he can get his hands on. He’s been needing a wife to spend his money for him for years.”

      “Oh, I didn’t come to spend his money.” In fact, she clearly remembered last night and his rule about the budget. “I’m used to being careful. My job didn’t pay terribly, but it didn’t pay well.”

      “And all that’s behind you. Get in. George, are you going to stare at the horse or come to church with us?”

      Mercy’s attention was stolen by the shivering girl, trying to keep her teeth from chattering as she held out one end of the thick flannel-lined buffalo robe. Huddling under it, Amelia shook harder when cold air slipped beneath it.

      Not wanting the girl to get any more frozen, Mercy slipped in beside her. “George, come sit beside me.”

      “I can’t believe that’s gonna be our horse, too.” George clamored out of the snow, nearly stumbling because he couldn’t take his eyes off the gelding. He dropped beside her with a fulfilled, happy sigh. “No one’s ever had a horse as nice as that one.”

      “You’ll have to ask Cole if you can pet him. And what his name is.” She shook the robe over her son, tucking him in snugly. Her teeth began chattering, too.

      “It’s Frosty,” Amelia volunteered as the sleigh jerked to a start and Frosty was off, bounding on his long legs through the sheltered part of the street, as gleaming white as the snow.

      “Wow,” George breathed as the animal gained momentum. “We’re in a real sleigh, Ma. Being pulled by a real horse.”

      “Haven’t you been in a sleigh before?” Amelia asked curiously, a few strands of reddish-blond hair escaping her knit cap to curl around her adorable face.

      “We owned work horses for the farm long ago,” Mercy said quietly, her chest tightening at the memory. Some of the daylight seemed to drain from the sky, and she lifted her chin, determined not to let the disappointments of the past shadow this new future. “We put runners on the wagon box in the winter. That was before my husband passed on, when George was too little to remember. Those were our last horses.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry.” Amelia seemed flustered, as if that hadn’t been the answer she’d been expecting.

      Leave the past where it belongs, she reminded herself. “So that’s why this is so exciting for us. To be whisked to church instead of walking through the snow. And we’ve never been in finer company.”

      “I can’t wait for everyone to see you.” Amelia bumped Mercy’s elbow gently, a show of connection. “Look, we’re already turning down Second.”

      “I can see the steeple!” George called out.

      “Will your father be meeting us?” Mercy asked quietly as they drove along, straining to search through the crowd of tethered horses and vehicles along the street in front of the church. It looked as if men gathered there, talking amiably. Although she already knew Cole wasn’t one of them.

      “Pa doesn’t go to church anymore.” Amelia shrugged, falling silent, as if there was more to the story.

      Sensing sadness there, suspecting it was because of the loss of Amelia’s mother, Mercy gave her a silent nod of understanding. Sometimes a broken heart simply had to find his own way.

      “Look at that palomino!” George shouted, his voice high-noted with glee. “It’s the most golden horse I’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s the horse I like the most.”

      “I can see why.” Mercy straightened George’s cap, which had gone somehow askew, to keep his ears warm. It seemed every handsome horse her boy saw became his new favorite. “Eberta, I’m so glad you’ve come with us.”

      “No worries. One thing I don’t miss is Sunday service.” Eberta pulled Frosty to a stop at a vacant spot at the block-long hitching post. “Are all those curious eyes getting to you?”

      “Why, are people looking at me?” She pulled her attention away from the men and horses, where Cole Matheson was not, and realized it was true. A circle of ladies, standing off to the side of the walkway, studied her.

      Shyness washed over her and she stared at the edge of the buffalo robe feeling terribly alone. She’d been prepared to meet so many new and unfamiliar people, but she hadn’t realized how at ease she’d expected to feel with Cole at her side. Not that she needed a man to lean on, goodness no, but the companionship would have felt nice. Somehow she felt terribly alone.

      This was the way a marriage of convenience was, she reminded herself. And, more importantly, it was no different from how her first marriage had turned out, in the end. She pushed back the buffalo robe, folding it up for later use.

      “Hi!” Amelia called out to the crowd, standing up to wave. “This is my new mother, Mrs. Mercy Jacobs, but by Christmas she will be Mrs. Matheson. And this is George.”

      “Hello.” A friendly woman stepped forward, her blond hair tumbling out from beneath her stylish bonnet. Her smile looked familiar. “We met in the dry-goods store briefly. I’m Molly.”

      “Yes, so good to see you again.” Like a sign from heaven, the sun chose that